Turning World
by wishes of falling stars
Summary: She is dead, he is dying, and the world keeps turning. -of life, drowning, dying, and moving on-


Title: Dying

Word Count: 940

Summary: She is dead, he is dying, and the world keeps turning

* * *

_Loss and possession, death and life are one, There falls no shadow where there shines no sun.  
-Hilaire Belloc_

He is dying.

He feels her seeping through him, a poison, an illness, a drug, turning is bones to lead, weighing him down, sapping his strength, sucking away the light like a hungry black hole, consuming him, destroying him, swallowing him up piece by broken piece.

He is deteriorating; he can't see, can't hear, can't smell, can't taste, can't feel, and he is waiting, waiting for the day where he simply won't be anymore. For now though, he is old, he is angry, he is weak, and he is resigned, but more than that, he is tired, so very, very, very tired, weary to his bones; tired of himself, of pain, of love, of life, of dying, especially dying. He can barely hear his heart now; what once was a pulsating, vigorous beat is now only the faintest tap, a slight twinge, but nevertheless it beats, and now, all he can do is wait, wait for the ache to go away, wait for her to come, wait for her to disappear, wait for it to finally stop.

Dying is a lot like living, he thinks.

He never thought dying was like this; actually, until she came, he never thought about dying at all; now, it's all he ever thinks about, dying and her. He wishes it would all just stop.

All he can see is her, all he can hear is the multifarious melody of her voice- the bell-like laughter, whispering sighs, blunt scolding, all he can smell is her scent, never too strong, just the tiniest hint of fruit, all he can taste is the lingering sweetness of her lips, and oh God, all he can do is feel, feel her cool breath on his neck, the warmth of her body next to his.

He can't escape her, everywhere he goes, everywhere he runs, everything he sees, he can only see her, her, her. He can't stop and she can't stop and she's drowning him, dragging him down into depths, and he is happy, starved, ravenous, and hungry for her.

He is filling himself up with all he has left.

* * *

She died on a bright, sunny day, and he wants to laugh- laugh and cry at the irony of it all. It rained on the day they first met, and now it is sunny when they finally say goodbye.

He thinks it's all wrong.

Her, dying, him, dying, the weather, the world, fading; it shouldn't be cheerful and sunny today or any other day. He wants it to rain, rain hard and long and cold and neverending, for every tear he has not shed. And not just the weather, the whole world should just stop turning. She isn't here anymore, she's gone, and there's something, beautiful and wonderful and special, missing from the world, a big black hole of absence; he can't fathom a world without her, it would just be unreal, unnatural. She died and the world should have ended.

But it didn't, it exists and it keeps moving, faster and faster, blurring through fall, winter, spring, summer, red, blue, yellow, white, black, war, peace, disaster, days, months, years, joy, grief, anger, people, and it hurts his head, hurts her when the world swirls around him, past him, relentless and incessant, like a million leaves tearing through the wind. It's pushing him, shoving him this way and that, up away to the surface, away from her, and he's fighting against, pushing and shoving back; he needs her, wants to drown, wants to stay far down in her stagnant depths, far away so he doesn't have to feel, get lost in that chaotic swirl.

But how many have died, are dying, and how many countless will, and since when had life ever stopped for them?

He knows that he's losing the battle; maybe he could never win in the first place, that the world will turn and keep turning and turning and if he stays back, it will leave him behind in the depths, alone.

For the first time, he isn't so sure he wants to be here anymore.

Maybe one day it'll do what he wants, it'll just stop and end, but he knows when it happens, if it happens, it won't be for her, it won't be for him, or anybody else. But he'll still keep on fighting, because he can, and he will, for her.

So the world wants to change and move on? Fine he says, so will he, he'll move and change himself and change it, because if he can't stop it, he'll work hard, stop people from dying, from feeling pain, so then the world doesn't have to stop. If it wants to dance and laugh and sing and jump, then so will he; he'll see her and they'll run harder, laugh longer, and they'll jump and touch the stars, they'll leap far past it, ahead of it. If it wants to rain and cry, he will too; he'll remember her, what happened, what never could, and what never will. Maybe, one day, if it burns and ends in flames, he will not burn; he will blaze his way through the enemies to her, burn for her. If he cannot stop for her, for the world, at the very least, he will live for her.

So the world wants to turn, he will too.

* * *

_He can see her clearly, more beautiful and haunting and real than he's ever seen her before, and he wants nothing more than to reach out, to touch her, feel her for one last time. He sees her lips quirk upward into a smile before she slowly fades away._

_**...Fin...**_

****

* * *

A/N: Angsty and slightly cheesy, I still like it better than my other two fanfics, coincidentally, also about Bleach and angst (says a lot about me, doesn't it? :). This really could stand outside the Bleach unniverse, but I was inspired by a Bleach fanfiction, some line about how somebody died and how his world was ending. I also wrote this with a certain Bleach couple in mind, but left out the names on purpose. Because, generally, I wanted this to apply to almost any guy in Bleach, Ichigo, Renji, Hitsugaya, Byakuya, some random unidentified shinigami, arrancar, I don't know... Feel free to tell me who you think it is in a review, it would make me very happy :)


End file.
